


Call Me Dodger

by LufwoodEmilius



Category: Oliver Twist (1999), Oliver Twist - All Media Types, Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LufwoodEmilius/pseuds/LufwoodEmilius
Summary: Essentially, this is a ficlet about how the Artful Dodger got his name.





	Call Me Dodger

“Harriet, Henry, Charles, Edmund, Susan, Peter, Katherine, Jack. Jack. Jack? Where’s Jack?” a worried mother asked.

Just out of sight Jack Dawkins, the youngest of eight, stood gazing longingly at a bakery window. The scent of freshly made bread filled the air and made his stomach growl. He licked his dry lips and pressed a grubby hand on the glass. His freckled face had a slight smile across it. Several children ran out with sticky pastries in their chubby hands. He glared at them and then continued to stare at the delicacies nestled on a tray in the window. The steam rose slowly, fogging the pane. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal. Jack’s hand- me -down clothes fit loosely on his body and he pulled up his hanging pants.

“Jack, you stupid boy,” his mother yelled, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. “How dare you keep us waiting like that! Acting like the King of bloody England, you are. No dinner for you tonight.”

“Mum, that’s not fair. I’m hungry,” Jack protested.

She violently pushed him towards the rest of her children and stormed off. Jack kicked a stone to the side and gave a sad sigh. Harriet, his older sister, grasped his hand gently and tugged the resisting child away. Jack looked back one last time at the bakery.

Once at home the children gathered around the dying fire. Their mum had gone for a few moments next door. The door opened soon afterwards and a broad -shouldered man walked in, followed by their mother. The man had a scruffy looking beard and a large belly. His hair was graying and balding at the top where it glistened from the grease.

“Where is he?” he bellowed while removing the wide leather belt from his waist.

“Over there by the fire,” she pointed.

Jack curled up beside his siblings trying to remain hidden. Unable to hide amongst them he was picked up by the wrist. The smell of alcohol and body odor jumped from the man’s body. He could see hair growing on the man’s chest. The sweat from his torso was soaking through the large shirt. Jack gave a scream and a whimper as he was thrown to the floor. The man gave him a few good slashes across the arm.

“Please sir. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” Jack burst into tears and hid his arms under his curled body.

The man turned from him and began to thread his belt back into his pants. He gave a few grunts.

“Next time boy I won’t be so nice to you,” he growled and left.

Jack sat weeping in the middle of the room. He turned to his siblings hoping for some sympathy. They turned away from him. Most of his siblings didn’t feel sorry for him at all. He always misbehaved and sometimes his pranks would land them all in trouble.

“Got what you deserved,” Henry snapped and sat at the small dinner table.

“You were lucky it was Alfred instead and not Oscar. Oscar would have killed you,” Charles added. Both boys burst into laughter.

“Hold your tongues both of you,” Harriet yelled. “Get to bed.”

Charles left the room without saying another word. Before Henry left he stared at his older sister.

“I don’t know why you stick up for the little whelp. He’s a disgrace to the family.” He disappeared into the dark room.

Jack stuck out his tongue while Harriet cradled him in the crook of her arm. She pushed back a lock of her brown hair.

“Jack stop that. You don’t want Charles and Henry to get you next.” Her voice was calm. She lifted his wounded arms. Jack winced in pain and pulled his arm away. He turned his head.

“It ain’t fair,” Jack whispered.

“What ain’t fair?” Harriet asked.

“All I was doing was looking. I did nothing wrong and mum has to call Alfred.”

Harriet shook her head and turned Jack’s face to hers. “You wandered off, Jack. And there are dangerous people in London.”

“I don’t care. I’ll take my chances.”

“Jack, please be careful.” She paused. “Because I won’t be there next time.”

“Why? Are you going somewhere?”

“Mum’s sending me off into the world. Says I’m too old to be living here.”

Jack shook his head in disbelief. “You’re lying!”

Harriet shook her head sadly and brought him close. “Jack you were always my favorite brother.” She began to cry softly on his shoulder, her warm tears touching his skin. Jack pulled away and crossed his arms. “I can’t do anything Jack. I’ll try and say goodbye before I leave.” She kissed Jack’s cheek.

Harriet stood up and walked to the next room, leaving Jack alone in the dark. He wiped away his tears with one hand and blew his nose into his sleeve. He lay on the floor and watched the final coals in the fireplace die. He blinked and soon found himself fast asleep. The next morning he woke up where he’d dozed off.

“Harriet? Harriet?” he called.

“She left, Jack,” Susan said while she wiped her hands on her skirt. “Left while you were sleeping. Mum too.”

“But she promised that she would say goodbye.”

“I guess she forgot,” Susan said wiping the dirt off Jack’s cheek.

Jack slapped her hand away and jumped to his feet. He ran out into the crowded streets of London. A light frost lay on the ground.

“Harriet!” he cried as he ran through the streets, his breath coming in great bursts of steam. It was cold. The ground nipped at his bare feet and the breeze reached down his shirt and pants.

As he ran, he collided with a few pedestrians who hissed curses at him. Jack then tripped and fell into someone’s arms. He looked up to stare into the face of a man. The man’s face was unshaven and his hair was tied into a ponytail. He wore torn pants, a red shirt and an old battered morning coat.

“Slow down, my dear,” the man cooed grasping his shoulders.

Jack tried to pull away, but the man had a tight grasp on him.

“I’m not your dear,” Jack hissed. 

“I know you’re not. What’s your name, lad?” He asked.

“Jack.” He looked questionably at the man.

“Jack. Jack. Jack. Jackity Jack,” the man sang. “The name’s Fagin.”

Jack blinked and turned to go. “I have to find my sister.”

Fagin grasped his arm tightly. “Will you help an old man with his goods?” Fagin asked with a smile.

“No, thanks.” Jack began to leave.

Fagin tapped his foot and noticed two large constables. He went to Jack’s side and shoved the books into his hand. He straightened up. “Constable! Thief! Thief!” he cried leaving. 

Panicking, Jack ran off still carrying the books, his bare feet slapping the ground. The cops were on him now. He slipped from sight and watched the crowd run past him. Jack smiled and walked out. A hand soon reached out from an alley and pulled Jack into the darkness. 

“Oof,” Jack hit the wall hard. Seeing Fagin’s smiling face he lunged forward. “You!”  
  
Fagin placed his hand on the boy’s head and tugged the books away. He studied his prize.

“Nicely done, my dear. Very nice.” He pushed Jack to the ground and strode down the alley. The smell of decomposing animal bodies stewing with human waste filled Jack’s nose. He coughed as Fagin whistled. He could see him stroke the book delicately.

“Come back here!” Jack cried and pursued Fagin. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Fagin gave a sly smile. The boy was following him. This gave him an idea.

“Indeed. In fact perhaps you’re interested in my line of work.” He kept walking briskly.

“Am not,” Jack snapped.

Fagin turned quickly, like a snake to its prey, making Jack jump. “The thrill of avoiding getting caught. The feel of an item in your hands. Thieving is a very respectable occupation, my dear. And I know I saw the glint of excitement in your eyes.”

“Did not.”

“Okay.” Fagin shrugged. “I was giving you a job opportunity. Guess I was wrong to think that you wanted it. You couldn’t handle it anyway.”

“Who said I couldn’t?” Jack asked.

“I did. Besides your too small,” Fagin replied.

Fagin tucked the books away into his coat and turned on his heels. He left Jack in the dark, a confused look on his face.

“Three, two, one,” Fagin mouthed silently.

“Wait!” Jack ran up to him.

“Yes, my dear?” Fagin asked.

“How much does this job pay?”

“Depends on how much you steal.”

Jack tapped his chin. A job where the sky’s the limit sounded good. “How can I prove myself?”

“So you do think you can do it?”

“I can do anything.”

“Alright. Meet me here at dawn. No later.”

Jack nodded and scurried off. And thus was born Fagin’s new line of work. He would promote child thieves and he would never have to lift a finger. He would be a ringleader of sorts to a circle of child miscreants. A crocodile smile spread across his thin face as he disappeared into the darkness.

At home Jack hadn’t said a word since he arrived. His brothers, Edmund and Peter, soon began to terrorize him.

“Where’s your protector now, you little arse?” Peter asked throwing a scrap at Jack’s head.

“I heard mother sent her off to be a mistress to some rich man,” Edmund said with a laugh.

“Yes. A rich old man with several mistresses and a wife,” added Peter with a giggle.

“And who mistreats them. Having one for every day,” Edmund snorted.

“Shut your mouth, you arse,” Jack yelled and punched each of them on the nose. “You don’t know anything.”

The three began to quarrel and wrestle on the floor, the other siblings edging them on--Jack getting a good beating from his brothers. Their mother soon stopped the fight, but only after all the boys had serious bruises on their faces. 

“Get yourselves to bed. All of you,” she yelled.

The three boys marched off. The night wore on and Jack lay beside his sister Katherine, fully awake.

_“Meet me here at dawn,”_ Fagin’s voice echoed through his head.

As dawn approached Jack snuck out of the house and jogged through the almost empty streets.

“Where are you?” Jack called. “Hello?”

A hand covered his mouth. “Ssshhhh, my dear.” Fagin crouched beside him. “Glad to see you. Ready for your first experience in the art of thieving?”

Jack nodded in excitement. “Couldn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Good lad.” Fagin ruffled his hair. “Right. Your first task then is to steal a morsel of food.” He pushed Jack forward. “Good luck boy.”

There was a small crowd in the market that Jack swam through. He crouched under a fruit stall and looked cautiously around. No one was looking at the moment. He reached his hand up and grasped something. He pulled it back down with an apple in hand. He gave a sigh of relief and reached again this time taking a pear. He stuffed his goods in his pockets and tiptoed away. That was easy.

“Wait! Thief!” someone cried.

He had been caught, but he wouldn’t be arrested. Jack leapt to the left and one man collided into a fruit stall. He snickered. The other cop reached forward. Jack fell to his knees; the man tripped over his body. Jack jumped up and ran over the constable. Jack ran off and darted back into the alleyway, the officers running past him. He panted and gave a grin. That was fun. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his body. 

“Good job my dear.” Fagin took the items from him. “You’ll make a fine thief, quite the little runner and dodger you are.” Fagin grasped his shoulders. “How would you like to join my band of companions?”

“Really? Would I have to bring my siblings?”   
  
“No. They’re probably not as skilled as you are. And look at you. What happened?” he asked pointing to the bruises.

“My brothers were insulting my sister and gave me a good beating.”

“Even more of a reason to leave.”

Jack pondered for a moment. Fagin seemed like a decent sort and he was the first man to show him that much compassion. Fagin gave a not-so-toothy smile. Jack bit his lip.

“Come on, my dear. We haven’t got all day,” Fagin said, a bit of impatience appearing in his voice. He didn’t want to lose the boy, but he was losing his cool quickly.

Jack backed away, scared of what Fagin would do.

Seeing this Fagin put an arm around Jack’s shoulder. “My dear boy. I won’t hurt you. Not like your brothers. I’ll be like the brother you never had.” Fagin placed his hand over his heart. “I ,Fagin, promise you, Jack, to keep you safe from any harm.” His words dripped like sweet poison in Jack’s ears.

Jack liked the sound of that and nodded. Fagin lifted Jack onto his shoulders and turned.   
  
“Time to turn on the old Fagin charm. Where do you live lad?”

“I’ll show you.”

They walked on and along the way Fagin took a few items of his own--a coat, a hat and cane. Eventually they found their way to Jack’s cramped home in the slums of London. The cries of babies could be heard from the old houses. Jack was the first to enter followed by Fagin. His mother groaned.

“Has Jack gotten into trouble again?” she asked. “I warned him not to.”

“No, mum. I’m here to talk,” Fagin replied. “I noticed little Jack here is good with his hands and is as strong as an ox.”

“He is?” his mother asked questioningly.

“Yes. Well, I was wondering if I could take him on as my apprentice.”

“Apprentice? Well…I don’t know. He is my youngest son.”

“And what a fine son he is.”

His mother twisted her apron in thought. Jack leaving home was a troubling thing to her.

“Mum, please make a choice. I’ve seen many other fine lads eager to be my apprentice.”

“What do you do, sir?” She asked.

“Uh…I work as a leather maker,” Fagin lied. “And the best part is, I’ll take him for free. He’ll have three hot meals a day, a place to sleep and new clothes.”

“Please, mum?” Jack pleaded.

“Oh, alright.” She sighed and embraced him. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will, mum.” Jack pulled away and turned to Fagin.

He took Jack’s hand and they left. He could hear his mother’s cries from inside and his siblings sobbing as well. He didn’t care. He was free. Free with Fagin.

“Now you’ll need a new name. You can’t go around with the name Jack.”

“How about the Dodger? The Artful Dodger,” Jack said. “But you may call me Dodger.”


End file.
